oh hey there

Basic plot fo Travelers according to IMDB - Hundreds of years from now, surviving humans discover how to send consciousness back through time, into people of the 21st century, while attempting to change the path of humanity.

BUT WHAT IF THEY SENT THEIR CONSCIOUSNESS TO THE 1980'S!! All to stop the Upside Down from taking over the world.

So now I set the stage: season 2 episode 9.

In November of 1984, Billy Hargrove beats Steve Harrington to death in front of the The Party in the Byer's home. Subsequently, The Party never goes down into the tunnels to distract the Mind Flayer and help Eleven close the gate. This triggers a whole line of events that results in the Upside Down taking over their dimension and plunging the world into a post-apocalyptic, alien / alternate dimensional hellscape.

The Travelers step in to rewrite this history by sending a Traveler to take over Steve's place. He overpowers Billy, helps The Party get to the tunnels, and together they close the gate and prevent one of the main triggering events that would have kicked off the apocalypse.

He was born at sunrise.

As soon as Merenkahre and Shepseheret laid eyes upon him, they knew he was the most beautiful thing in all the lands. Even his cries did not deter them. Shepseheret held him to her chest for the first time and caressed his soft, unblemished cheek with a single finger. Ahkmenrah reached out and wrapped one of his tiny, perfect hands around her finger, and she knew. She could never let him go.

It was a course for celebration, and they did celebrate. They spared no expense for their newborn son. 

The lavish ballroom was decked out in the finest decor, and along one wall was a long table displaying a feast for the ages. All of the best fruits, vegetables, meats, and desserts were piled high for the guests to take from throughout the night. The air was fragrant with the scent of incense and sweet wine as guests danced happily to the expert band of musicians in the corner. 

The celebration was one of pure elation, and it was all for him. Just a few days old, that night Ahkmenrah laid in a bassinet by his parents’ side as the festivities drew on. Somehow he slept soundly right through it all, undisturbed by the music and cheering. He would never remember how people came out in masses to celebrate his birth, how even those not invited to the party held their own celebrations around the kingdom.

That did not stop the guests from showering him in gifts. Everyone came bearing a piece of their gratitude, whether that be in jewels, intricately made pieces of clothing, or more food for the party. 

Merenkarhe and Shepseheret sat in their thrones side by side, taking a break from their own celebration. It had been going on for hours and showed no signs of slowing. Shepseheret looked over at her husband. When he looked back at her and reached for her hand, they shared a quiet, proud smile. Ahkmenrah was already bringing everyone together, just as they had hoped. Perhaps it was too early to tell, but they both knew he would be a fine king. 

The double doors to the ballroom burst open. 

The crowd startled at the commotion, and then a hush fell over the room. The musicians’ melody came to an abrupt stop. Those closest to the doorway took multiple steps back, clearing a path for Merenkahre and Shepseheret to see the figure standing there.

Kahmunrah.

The eldest son of Merenkahre. At twenty years of age, he was stocky with a square face, and he had a mean glint in his coal black eyes that no servant nor subject wanted to get on the wrong side of. They'd all heard the rumors. Kahmunrah had a temper, and he preferred to let it run free.

His footfalls echoed with purpose and importance as he sauntered into the middle of the room. 

“Well, don't stop on my account. It’s a party! Why the long faces?” Kahmunrah said.

“Kahmun,” Shepseheret said, smiling dimly. “You've returned from your trip.”

Whenever Kahmunrah was at home, a heavy weight seemed to settle over the kingdom. He carried a fearsome type of darkness wherever he went. It was easier when he wasn't around. Ever since he became of age he was most often journeying to the outskirts of his father’s lands, seeking more knowledge and power to bring with him for when he assumed the throne. He wasn’t supposed to be here tonight.

Kahmunrah tilted his head curiously. “Well of course. A messenger sent word of your delivery and I knew I needed to return home at once. I wanted to see the little king for myself.”

‘King’ sounded like a curse on his tongue. It was a known sore spot, one that only festered when news broke of Shepseheret's pregnancy. Kahmunrah was his father's son from another woman. His first queen, who died shortly after childbirth before she even got to hold her infant son. Kahmunrah never forgave his father for remarrying.

He'd been preparing for over a decade to assume command of his father’s throne when the time came. He dedicated his life to it, training hard in battle strategies and shadowing his father's every move. He was to be the most ruthless leader, no matter how much his parents urged him to lean into a more nurturing approach. Kahmunrah was obsessed with harnessing the power of the Gods. He sought out magical practitioners all over, wielding their magic how he saw fit, as a true heir of Ra. The kingdom was his for the taking, and he would rule it as such.

Then Shepseheret gave birth to a son, and everyone knew the unspoken truth. The news spread like wildfire. Kahmunrah's reign would never come.

Merenkahre kept his chin high as he addressed Kahmunrah. “That's very generous of you, my son.”

“Oh, you know me, father. Always thinking of others.”

Kahmunrah approached his parents’ thrones, stepping right past the unspoken barrier that separated them from the rest of the crowd. He stopped in front of the bassinet at Shepseheret’s side, trampling over the circle of gifts around the base of it to peer down at Ahkmenrah's tiny, swaddled form. The yellow light from the oil lamps in the ballroom illuminated the baby’s long eyelashes. He was still asleep, with a bit of drool collecting at the corners of his mouth. 

He really was perfect.

Kahmunrah's expression twisted. In that moment the shadows in the room seemed to stretch out, almost as if trying to prevent the inevitable. 

Kahmunrah reached into the bassinet and gathered his baby brother into his arms. 

The guards lining the edges of the room stood at attention and readjusted their grips on their spears. Shepseheret startled, reaching on instinct for her son. Merenkahre put a hand on her arm, holding out the other placatingly as he stood from his seat. 

“Relax, father. I mean no harm to him. What good would it do me to hurt my only brother?”

He stepped back into the center of the room as he cradled Ahkmenrah close, caressing a hand through the thin layer of dark hair on the baby's head. “What is his name?”

“His name is Ahkmenrah,” Merenkahre said, a rasp in his voice. He swallowed visibly. 

Kahmunrah made a cooing sound as the baby began to wriggle in his hold, awakening for the first time all night. He opened his eyes. They were green emeralds set into a cherubic face, innocent and open. 

“King Ahkmenrah,” Kahmunrah said, trying out the sound on his tongue. It fit too well. He addressed the room, looking out at the party guests. “I too wish to give my brother a gift!” 

Shepseheret shook her head. “That is not necessary—”

“Mother, please,” Kahmunrah cut her off. It was enough to have the rest of Shepseheret's words get stuck in her throat. He called her many things. Queen, Merenkahre's wife, and much fouler things behind closed doors. But he never called her his mother, not in all his years. 

As the baby began to whine, wriggling more incessantly in his brother’s hold, Kahmunrah swayed him from side to side. It was uncharacteristic of him to be so gentle with something. Not even his childhood pets were granted such a luxury. 

“Now what to give a child who has everything at his fingertips?” He drew a single finger down Ahkmenrah's nose bridge, and the baby's eyelids fluttered. The crowd waited with baited breath as he considered. Then a shimmering, writhing, golden light began emitting from his hand. It danced between his fingertips as he spoke. “The future King of Egypt will grow in grace and humility. He will be loved by all he comes across…”

“That's a lovely gift,” Merenkahre said, taking a few steps towards his sons.

Kahmunrah was not finished. He raised a hand to stop Merenkahre in his tracks. “But,” he continued. The glowing around his fingers increased in brightness, the soft gold shifting to the burning embers of fire. Those closest to him were made to squint while looking directly at it. The shadows in the ballroom bent towards him again, casting him in ghoulish lighting. “Before the sun rises on his eighteenth birthday, the future king will fall into a sleep like death. A sleep from which he will never awaken!” 

The crowd broke out into gasps. Shepseheret cried out in protest. The guards made their move, closing in on Kahmunrah with their weapons drawn. A created wind started up around Kahmunrah and the baby in his arms, impenetrable as an invisible shield. It sent the guards closest flying, crashing into the surrounding crowd. Their weapons scattered.

“Son, please do not do this! I'm begging you!” Merenkahre shouted over the chaos. He held out a hand against the wind, struggling to hold his ground. “Ahkmenrah is innocent!”

The look in Kahmunrah's eyes was enough to chill blood. Pure malice, and a vicious intent to hurt.

“I like when you beg, father,” he said. A wicked smile broke across his lips. “Do it again.”

There was a moment where the two of them were locked in a standoff. Merenkahre looked around at his people, the downed guards that were struggling to their feet, and his wife who had tears streaming down her face.

He was a king. He had endured the hardship of battle, and had defeated countless foes in the name of his kingdom. He had the scars to prove it.

For a moment, it seemed as if he would not give in.

Then Merenkahre kneeled.

“Please.”

It was a rare show of vulnerability. It was living proof of how much Ahkmenrah meant to him; more than his dignity, more than the stalwart image he upheld as Pharaoh. Even Kahmunrah looked surprised. 

He recovered quickly. “Very well.” He dipped his chin towards his father in acknowledgment. “Ahkmenrah can be awoken from his death sleep. At the setting sun he will be allowed to roam the Earth. Never growing old, never passing into the afterlife.”

Before anyone could protest further or exhale in relief, Kahmunrah went on, “But come sunrise each day, he will return to his fate. A fate only to be broken by true love's kiss.” 

Kahmunrah tapped a finger to Ahkmenrah's forehead. The golden light rippled through the baby's skin, binding itself to his very being. The energy from the spell sent a vibration that ricocheted out from the duo and into the floor, rocking everyone in the ballroom on their feet. Kahmunrah addressed the crowd again.

“This curse shall last till the end of time! Not even the Gods can change it!” 

At last, the shield of wind broke, and the guards were able to get hold of Kahmunrah. They separated him from his baby brother, tackling him to the ground. One guard handed Ahkmenrah back to Shepseheret, who scooped him up and held him to her chest with a ferocious protectiveness. The baby's wails were piercing over the struggle. But Kahmunrah did not fight the guards. Rather, he hissed words so fast they were indecipherable. On the last syllable, the sound of thunder cracked through the palace. The oil lamps in the ballroom abruptly snuffed out.

Everything was bathed in darkness. The guests screamed. Kahmunrah's laughter echoed off the walls.

Then the lights returned.

The crowd's screams petered off. Everyone’s discontent and uncertainty was palpable, only growing as on the floor, the guards grumbled to each other in confusion. They broke apart, baffled at the empty space before them. Their weapons were pointed at nothing.